


It Hits the Fan

by plisetskys



Series: (I’m Your) Brave Little Soldier [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Discussion of Abortion, Family Drama, Katsuki Yuuri and Victor Nikiforov are Yuri Plisetsky's Parents, M/M, Mpreg, Unplanned Pregnancy, kind of silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 21:06:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13489782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plisetskys/pseuds/plisetskys
Summary: Yuri Plisetsky is the dreaded eighteen and pregnant- telling his parents is not something he’s been looking forward to.omegaverse au. involves wholesome scenes of otabek making dinner.





	It Hits the Fan

**Author's Note:**

> im back.. to give the people what they wanted. no smut in this one, but i am going to keep updating this series with one shots! just for a tw, it’s already in the tags but there is discussion of a past abortion (not yuri). as always thanks so much for reading and thanks to everyone’s really kind comments on my last upload, i am feeling a lot more confident about this oneshot! so thanks so much everyone!!  
> xox  
> 

“I swear to god he can smell it on me-“

“Yura, that’s not a real thing.” 

“He’s just been saying weird shit to me, lately. Y’know, the other day, when he asked if I had anything to tell him? You know that he knows. I almost pissed myself.” 

“Mother’s intuition?

“He’s not my real mom!” 

“Yura, don’t be mean.” 

Yuri scowled, folding his arms across his chest and flopping his back onto the couch. He’d been pregnant for exactly six weeks and three days, and so far no one knew except himself, and Otabek. Of course, he’d only known he was pregnant for about a week, so it wasn’t entirely inexcusable. 

He sighed, staring down at his deceptively flat stomach, prodding at it. 

“I don’t look pregnant, do I?” Otabek laughed, reaching over to tuck a strand of stray blonde hair behind his ear with a great deal of care,

“I don’t think you’re supposed to yet.” 

He grabbed the heavy book out of Yuri’s backpack, now, waving it to catch the blonde’s attention.

“And your dad’s will kill me anyways, if I let you forget about your math homework.” 

Yuri rolled his eyes, looking mischievous, “You are done for, Altin!” 

Yuuri and Victor were Yuri’s doting parents. Of course, Yuuri wasn’t his “real” mom (or his name probably wouldn’t have been Yuri in the first place), but he’d been about ten when they’d gotten married, so Yuri really had no business complaining about it. 

Otabek and Yuri had ended up meeting around that time anyways, when they’d moved next door to each other at the start of the school year. Otabek, being two years Yuri’s senior, had shown him around and helped him with his homework, something he still did today, even when he was a sophomore in college. 

For this reason, Otabek, even being an alpha, was allowed over for sleepovers, doors closed, however ill-fated the choice might’ve been, as long as some homework got done. 

Yuri, hell-bent on distracting Otabek from his singular duty, was currently weaseling himself into the others lap, smirking.

“Hey, now,” He slid his hands around Yuri’s little waist, frowning, “You've only got this one year left, Yura, c’mon, you’re almost done.” 

“And you went and knocked me up, so what’s the point, hm?” He squirmed around, and Otabek let out a groan, 

“I thought you wanted to do dance in college.” 

Yuri stilled, arms still sling around Otabek’s shoulders. 

“Do you still want me to go to college?” 

Otabek frowned, reaching up to smooth down Yuri’s mussed hair, “Of course I do. You know I’m not that kind of alpha. You can do whatever you want, baby. Even if you want to take a break first.” He poked Yuri’s belly, “We’ll make it work. Whatever you wanna do.” 

Yuri’s eyes were somewhat downcast, and he leaned foreword to splay across Otabek’s chest, sighing heavily. 

“It’s hard.” 

Otabek rubbed Yuri’s back patiently, “I know.” 

“I want this baby with you, Beka.” 

“I love you. You know I’ll respect any choice you make.” 

Yuri made a soft whine and buried his head in the crook of Otabek’s neck, “Oh- stupid, don’t be so sweet- I love you, too, obviously.” 

“How about- we get married,” He could feel Yuri stiffen, but kept going anyways, “And you apply for my school, they have family housing and you could live with me, we’re close, your parents could still help with the baby. You can take a few classes and my scholarship will pay for our rent. Once I finish up school, I could support us, or you could dance if you wanted. Or get a degree. Whatever you want. You and the baby.” 

“What baby?” 

Otabek jumped, and Yuri immediately scrambled out of his lap, falling next to him on the couch with big eyes in a flurry of abandoned homework, sheets of paper falling to the ground. 

Yuri’s face was bright red as he stared up at his sort of, not quite mom, Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov. 

“Oh- hi, mom-,” 

“Hello, Mr. Nikiforov,” 

Otabek and Yuri spoke over each other, cursing themselves silently. Otabek wondered frantically how much of his speech Yuuri has actually heard, if this was something that could be saved with some smooth-talking (which seemed unlikely). 

Yuuri was holding a paper bag of groceries, very, very tightly. So tightly, in fact, his knuckles had gone all pink and white with exertion. In fact, his face had gone pink and white as well. 

It was saying a lot that Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov looked flustered, because usually he looked perfect. Yuuri was the ideal omega, soft spoken, kind, motherly, curvaceous. Everyone in Yuri’s middle school class would stare out the window when he got dropped off to catch a glimpse of Yuuri in his mom-jeans. It was kind of a thing. 

“Yuri,” He said, ignoring Otabek for the moment, zeroing in on Yuri through his glasses and giving him that million dollar stare, “Are you pregnant?” 

“Um-“ Yuri blanched, “Fuck.” Shit, that wasn’t what he meant to say. Otabek winced.

“Yuri!” He scolded, setting down his groceries on the ground and hurrying to the couch, sitting next to him and grabbing both of Yuri’s sweaty, trembling hands. 

“Just tell me.” 

“God! Yes, okay?! I’m-“ He tried to be strong, to get the words out hard and with bite, like usual, but before he could stop himself he could feel his eyes welling with tears and his lower lip trembling. 

Oh no, he hated crying. Especially in front of Yuuri. If there was one thing Yuri Plisetsky hated, it was sympathy. 

And then, all at once, he was balling like a baby into Yuuri’s chest, holding onto him like the only floatation device in a wave pool. 

Yuuri sighed heavily, and wrapped his arms around his son, stroking his hair. 

“Oh, Yura,” He frowned, pursing his lips before looking across the couch to Otabek, who looked as if someone had just killed his dog. 

He met Otabek’s eye and mouthed “WATER” to him twice before it registered, and then dutiful, polite Otabek was scrambling clumsily towards the kitchen to fetch a glass. 

Yuri’s pathetic sobbing had turned more into little whines, and Yuuri had lifted his head up, cupping his wet cheeks in his hand, pushed his bangs out of his eyes.

“It’s okay, I’m not mad.” He held out his hand and Otabek shakily handed him the glass, sitting back down with an audible thump, 

“I actually kind of thought you were,” He thrust the glass towards Yuri,

“Drink some water.” 

Yuri wiped some of the snot from his nose, taking the glass and gulping water down, exhaling loudly when he’d finished it off. He didn’t jerk away when Yuuri wiped his tears, too exhausted from his outburst to put up much of a fight. 

“Feel better? You must be relieved to get it out, right?” 

He nodded, sitting up a bit straighter, but still leaning on Yuuri for comfort. 

Finally, after another big breath, it seemed like the tears had stopped. He bit his lip, and then mumbled, sheepishly,

“I feel stupid.” 

“You are stupid,” Yuuri chided, tucking his blonde hair behind his ears gently, he was always trying to get Yuri’s hair out of his face, “But it’s okay, you’re young.” 

Yuri furrowed his eyebrows, “Hey!” He snapped, “You weren’t supposed to agree with me!” 

Otabek ran his hand through his hair, staring up at the ceiling. He was nearly catatonic. 

“Yura,” He was holding Yuri’s hands again, looking at him dead-on, “Did you know I got pregnant when I was your age, too?” 

Yuri’s eyes got wide, and he shook his head, a little shocked that he had never heard about this before. Yuuri was a retired figure skater that had spent quite some time in the public eye, most of his life was general knowledge, or at least in his heyday, fifteen some odd years ago. 

“What did you-?” Yuri knew logically that he had no step-siblings, but curiosity compelled him further.

“I was a figure skating champion, I couldn’t have a baby. And back then, it wasn’t as acceptable for omegas to compete in sports, so I’d been scent masking.” 

Yuri was listening very intently, more intently then he’d probably ever listened to Yuuri before. 

“I thought that my best option was to have an abortion. So that’s what I did, and everything was fine. Your dad knows, but of course, it was a long time before I met him.” 

Yuuri swallowed, feeling a bit sad, for Yuri to have to make such adult decisions, and a bit guilty, for not having taught him as well as he could about safety, and responsibility.

“That was the right choice for me, but it might not be the right choice for you. You know that your dad and I will support you no matter what. If you want me to make your appointment, I will, but if you want me to babysit, I can do that too, Yura, but you just have to think about your future and what you want.” He gestured to Otabek, “And what he wants, too.” 

Yuri wiped his wet cheek again, and he could feel Otabek’s hand on his back, reassuring him. 

“I think- I think that I want this baby.” 

Yuuri sighed deeply, licking his lips like he did when he was thinking. 

“Alright. Well, then we have a lot to do.” 

He gave Yuri a firm pat on the head and got up, putting his hands on his hips,

“First of all, Otabek, dear, would you put these groceries away? The ice cream is going to melt. And Yuri, get my cell phone.” 

Yuri sat stunned on the couch, looking frazzled and blotchy, “Are you going to tell dad right now?!” 

“No, but I’m going to ask him to come home early so you can tell him yourself,” Then, under his breath, “I’m not trying to give him a heart attack.” 

Yuri instantly felt guilty, Victor was going to freak out. He had always coddled Yuri, having been a single dad for the few years before he’d met his other Yuuri. 

He stood shakily, feeling weird on his feet, but he understood Yuuri’s agenda, getting his blood flowing somewhere besides rushing to his head was calming him down a bit. 

He found Yuuri’s bag on the counter and fished out his iPhone, passing it into his waiting hand.

Yuuri had Victor on speed-dial, so he quickly moved the phone to his face, holding it up to his ear with his shoulder while he sifted through the kitchen junk drawer for a notepad and pencil. When he found them both he set them on the marble countertop, 

“Hi, sweetie,” He spoke into the phone, and Yuri was almost to alarmed by the normalcy of it all to be grossed out by the pet-name,

“Oh, nothing,” Yuuri was scribbling onto the notebook quickly while talking, “I just really need you to come home early today, you think you can?” 

Otabek dropped a box of cereal on the ground with a slap and the corner of Yuuri’s mouth turned up slightly as he hurried to pick it up. 

“No, nothing like that. It’s really important, though. Yuri’s home, too. And I think we’ll be having Otabek over for dinner.” He was making little check marks now, “No, I just went to the store. I got everything. Oh, you can? Okay, perfect. I love you! See you soon, Vitya. Yes... yes, okay, bye.” 

Yuuri hung up the phone and then tore out the sheet of paper, passing it to Yuri, before quickly dialing another number. 

“Hi, it’s Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov. Oh, I’m just fine,” He chewed on the tip of his pen while he talked, “I was wondering if I could make an appointment for my son. Yes, he’s an omega,” 

Yuri stared at the paper, it was a checklist in Yuuri’s perfect handwriting. God, he was so much more organized than Yuri could ever dream to be. His handwriting looked like chicken scratch compared to Yuuri’s graceful penmanship.

Things to do:  
-Tell your dad  
-Doctors Appointment  
-Prenatal Vitamins  
-Otabek’s parents  
-Plan for school 

“Just a blood test. And wellness. He took a home test, I believe.” He looked up to Yuri, who held his hand up. Two fingers. He’d taken two tests.

“Um, he took two. Yes. Just turned eighteen. Plisetsky. With a P-l-i- yes, just like that,”

Yuuri intercepted a bag of chips that Otabek was attempting to put in the cupboard and opened them, silently offering him one before eating a handful himself, covering his mouth so no one on the phone could hear. 

“Mhm. Mm,” He swallowed, “Tomorrow is perfect, oh, thank you so much,” Yuuri’s lilting grateful voice was highly sought after, and if he listened close, Yuri could almost hear how flustered the nurse on the other end of the line was, “Two o’clock. Yes, we’ll be there. Thank you again. Mhm. Goodbye.” 

He hung up, smiling with satisfaction, “Alright. Your dad will be home in about an hour- so we should start dinner soon- and you have a doctors appointment tomorrow at two.” 

“So, I get to miss school?” Yuri supplemented, his ‘senioritis’ as it was lovingly called, was critical. 

“Depends on how tonight goes,” Yuuri was  
always doing two things at once, preheating the oven and turning on stove tops, “If your dad is too upset, I suppose you can stay home for the day.”

Yuri immediately regretted his callousness and shut his mouth, the night was far from over, particularly the hard part. 

For the first time in about a half hour, Otabek cleared his throat and spoke, “Um, if you’d like me to, Mr. Nikiforov, I can make dinner for everyone.” 

“Oh,” Yuuri smiled gently, reaching up to give Otabek a soft pat on the cheek, “Alright, Otabek. If you think you can handle it. Not that my Vitya is hard to impress, or anything,” 

“It’s no trouble. When I lived at home, I had to make dinner on a rotation with my sisters, and we have a big family.” 

“See, there’s a responsible boy,” He turned back to Yuri, “You should make dinner for your dad and I once and a while!” 

Yuri rolled his eyes, “Beka, don’t encourage him.” He’d picked up his phone, which he’d been ignoring because of this little family crisis that had demanded all his attention. He had about a hundred instagram notifications as usual, and two unread texts from Mila, a girl from his dance class, which ended up just being some cat memes. He sent a thumbs up emoji in response. 

And so, it was like this. Yuuri planned out the rest of the week on the white board calendar, complete with new doctor’s appointments and trips to the pharmacy for weird vitamins, while Otabek threw some kind of pasta dish together that would feed four. Well, five. 

Yuri posted a picture of Potya he’d taken a week ago, he’d been somewhat neglectful of his instagram since his positive test, super paranoid that if he posted a picture of himself, someone would notice some change in himself he wasn’t seeing. He adorned his post with the heart-eyes cat emoji. Then after a moments thought, a middle finger and a princess crown. Perfect. 

It was well received. If Otabek hadn’t looked scared shitless, he might’ve posted a picture of him cooking dinner. Now that he wasn’t quite having a panic attack, he could appreciate how good he looked doing it. Pasta sounded delicious. Beyond delicious. He could probably eat a boat load of pasta.

All was calm for the moment, until he could hear the fumble of the door knob, and then Victor Nikiforov was making his grand entrance, just as Otabek strained the pasta into the sink.

“Darling!” He called, “I’m home!” Makkachin bounded into the kitchen, making a beeline for Yuri, and pouncing him. 

“Fucking hell-!” He yelped as Makka lapped at his face. He nudged the dog away from him, giving her a few menial pets on the head.

“Yurotchka! Watch your language!” Victor announced, calling Makkachin back, 

“Control your mutt, then, old man.” 

Victor didn’t respond to Yuri’s quip, because the other Yuuri was at his side quickly, kissing him on the cheek and pulling him into a brief hello embrace. Otabek waved somewhat uncomfortably from the kitchen.

“What a treat! Is Otabek making us dinner? It smells fantastic.” Yuuri was herding Victor towards the kitchen table, sitting him down right next to Yuri and taking off his jacket for him, 

“We’re having a little family meeting, so just sit tight, alright, dear?” 

Yuri felt like he was in a bad sitcom. He could almost hear the laugh track. The cast was complete with the bumbling father, milf of a step-mom, and insolent teenager. 

“What’s this about? Did you get suspended again, Yurio? Remember what we talked about your phone privileges.” 

“First of all, don’t call me that. Second of all: that’s the first thing you think of?” Yuri snapped back, wrinkling his nose, “Besides, I’m eighteen now, you can’t take my phone away like I’m a kid anymore!” Unconsciously, he gripped his phone a little tighter. 

“Oh, Yura, but you’ll always be my little boy!” Victor was beaming now, smoothing down Yuri’s hair. Yuri shoved his hand away. This probably wasn’t going to go well. 

Otabek interrupted by setting a big dish of pasta down in the center of the table. Yuuri followed close behind with plates and silverware for everyone, then water, and a glasses of wine for both him and Victor, who was definitely going to need it. 

“Beka, did you make this sauce?” Yuri said, already piling his own plate high with spaghetti before Yuuri even had time to sit down. 

Otabek grinned softly and shrugged, “It’s nothing special...”

“Oh, don’t be so modest,” Victor had stolen a bite off Yuri’s plate, “This is incredible! You have to come over and cook for us more often.” 

Yuuri raised his eyebrows slightly, clearing his throat,

“Now, before we eat, we should have a talk.” 

Yuri, whose mouth was already crammed full of pasta and had sauce all over his mouth, looked up with big eyes. 

“What about, darling?” Victor replied, the only other person besides Yuri serving himself some pasta, both Yuuri and Otabek’s plates were untouched. 

Yuuri almost felt bad bringing it up. Victor just seemed so content with his home cooked meal, it was a real shame to have to ruin it. 

“Yuri, don’t you have something to tell your father?” 

Yuri blanched, giving Otabek a deer-in-headlights look, swallowing his mouth full of pasta with serious force. 

“Um.” He was regretting eating almost half a serving of pasta in under a minute now. His stomach hurt, and Victor was staring at him expectantly.

He waffled for explanation before spitting out the first thing that came to mind, “Congrats, grandpa?” 

As a very emotive person, Victor’s emotions always showed on his face, first. However, Yuri had never really seen him go through so many so quickly. 

First he was mildly amused, then confused, then shocked, then he was glaring. Otabek had dropped his fork on the table with a clatter, and Yuuri reached over to give Victor a grounding pat on the arm. 

“Now, Yuri, I think what you meant to say was-“ 

“-You’re pregnant?!” Victor interrupted Yuuri’s attempted damage control, and turned towards Yuri disbelief, 

“Don’t kill me, okay?! I’m stressed enough, as is!” Yuri could no longer control the volume of his voice. Maybe it would’ve been better to tell him over the phone. 

He was turned towards Otabek now, “I thought you were the responsible one!” 

Otabek was white as a sheet, “Well, with all due respect, sir-“

“We know it wasn’t his idea, Vitya,” Yuuri chirped from Victor’s side, stroking his hair, 

“Way to throw me under the bus!” Yuri shouted incredulously. 

And now, Victor had seemingly moved passed the period of anger and had slipped right into grief. He was blubbering, and snatched Yuri from across the table to his chest, holding him like a baby with disregard for the dishes on the table. They clattered together,

“Oh- Yura... my little Yurotchka!” Otabek was watching in awe. Yuri looked like a cat that had just been thrown into an icy bath, “How can this be! My poor baby, Yura,” 

Yuri sighed, giving his father a reluctant pat on the back, “Dad, really? C’mon... calm down. It’s gunna be okay. Me and Otabek are getting married, and-“ 

“You’re getting MARRIED?!” Yuuri hung his head in his hands as Victor turned once again on Otabek,

“Are you certain? This is what you want? My Yura can be so cruel. Oh, god- he’s so young. Oh, where did I go wrong. My little Yura,” He was back to sniffling into Yuri’s hair again. 

“It’s fine. Right, mom?” Yuri was playing peacemaker now, grabbing Yuuri’s hand as best as he could from Victor’s vice grip of a hug, “I’m still gunna finish school, so you don’t have to worry, old man.” 

Yuuri nodded, pressing a kiss to the top of Victor’s head, “This is a surprise, but I think they can handle it. Don’t you, Vitya?” 

“I’m going to be good, dad. I’m going to figure this out. And be mature.” Yuri swallowed, hoping his wavering voice was convincing enough. He didn’t notice in all the flurry he’d elbowed over Victor’s glass of wine that was steadily now dripping off the end of the table and into Otabek’s lap, who seemed too flustered to do anything about it. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Victor looked up. His eyes were shiny with tears, and he still seemed a bit red in the face, but he wasn’t yelling anymore. 

He kissed Yuri on the head soundly. 

“I guess... I just didn’t want you growing up so fast.” He smiled sadly, shrugging, and then wrapping his arms around Yuri again. 

It hadn’t gone perfectly. Maybe not even well. But even with a big red stain on the tablecloth, Otabek’s pasta getting cold, and Victor narrowly avoiding cardiac arrest, they had at least done it, and that was one check off the list.

**Author's Note:**

> so i just obviously love yuuri being a milf and can’t let go of it


End file.
